I Am Rose Weasley
by imagionista
Summary: It's Rose Weasley's first year at Hogwarts, and she's determined to make her mark in the Wizarding World. But there's more to her story than just tests, friendship and family. Lord Voldemort's hidden daughter, Hecate Riddle, has arrived at Hogwarts and trouble is stirring. Rose must discover the secret of the prophecy dedicated to Hecate Riddle before it's too late. Rose's POV.


**A/N: Hi! This chapter is written in present tense, but the rest of the chapters will be in past tense. Also, all of the chapters will be in Rose's POV. **

**Prologue**

Hello, I'm Rosette Giana Weasley, but call me Rose, or I'll hex you into the next century. I'm eleven and I'm about to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

You probably know my parents, Hermione and Ron Weasley. They're very famous because of something that happened years ago; they didn't really tell us much about it. For the record, 'us' is I and my brother, Hugo Albert Weasley, who's a couple of years younger than me.

Well, anyway, this is just a record of my years at Hogwarts. People say it's magical and wonderful, going to Hogwarts, and I intend to preserve these memories in the best way possible. For now, it's a Thought-Diary, something Mum bought me on my birthday. I'm wearing an enchanted set of earrings, which record my thoughts as I go along.

So, back to Hogwarts. We're in the car now—Dad's driving, reckless as always; I don't know how he managed to trick that Muggle examiner into issuing him a license. Mum's in the passenger seat, which more resembles a soft two-seater sofa; she's reading one of those Muggle 'classics' that she's always trying to persuade me to read. Hugo's trying to force down as many Chocolate Frogs down as possible until Mum Summons his personal stores away, and I'm furiously going through the second-year Transfiguration textbook, making sure that I remembered and was able to perform each and every spell in it. Some said that I worried too much; I call it a need to be prepared.

We've finally reached, Dad earning a few angry honks from other drivers as he swerves into a parking space at the station, narrowly missing a shiny red convertible. Mum waves her wand at my trunk and extra book-bag, that I'd stuffed with third- and fourth-year textbooks (for revision, of course) onto a trolley. My snowy owl, Atlanta, who's ruffling her feather indignantly in her cage, prefers to be carried by hand (the small red welt on the side of my finger serves as a reminder). I load her cage into my arms, and off we go.

"Now," says Mum, checking her watch fussily, "We're very late. It's already twenty past ten!"

Dad rolls his eyes. "'Mione, you don't need to arrive one hour before the train leaves.

She glares at him, but ignores the comment. "Ron, take Hugo to Platform 9 and ¾ first. I'll take Rose." Dad nods and drags my little brother towards the divider between platforms 9 and 10. Mum watches them till she's sure they've gone through the barrier, then grasps my hand tightly.

"Rose," she says, grabbing hold of my trolley, "You know how to get onto the platform, I suppose?"

I roll my eyes. "You're not the only one to have read Hogwarts, a History," I say, shaking my head slightly.

Her eyes twinkle. "That makes the two of us, then." She releases my hand, and prompts me towards the barrier. "Go on, then. Make sure you don't drop Atlanta." My owl gives me a suspicious, orange-eyed glare, and I grip her cage even more tightly. I stride towards the barrier, leaning against it casually and nearly stumbling as I am deposited at Platform 9 and ¾. As soon as I make my way to Dad and Hugo, I see Mum with my trolley walking towards us. I grin, and turn to look around.

The platform is bustling with people, though not as much as it does later. Parents are bustling around their children, fussing with their hair and clothes and making sure that they get their trunk safely into a compartment. Older teens, probably NEWT level, are huddled in little groups, talking seriously and quietly. I recognize one of those heads as my cousin Victoire's—silvery blonde and beautiful as usual, she'd just been promoted to Head Girl of Gryffindor House.

Some of the younger kids are clinging onto their parents, weeping silent tears. Others are running around, causing general mayhem. I figure my cousin James was one of them, and sure enough, he bobs up next to us, grinning.

"Hi, Aunt Hermione, Uncle Ron!" he says cheerily.

"Hello, James dear," Mum says. "Where are Harry and Ginny?"

"Over there," James says brightly, gesturing vaguely to another part of the gleaming Hogwarts Express. "I'll go get them." He turns around and disappears into the crowd before Mum or Dad even open their mouths.

Dad shakes his head, grinning. "I wish I were back at Hogwarts."

Mum smiles, a bit sadly. Then she perks up. "Look, there they are." We all turn to look.

A family of five, dressed impeccably in Muggle attire, are walking towards us. The two adults, Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, are pushing one trolley each. A little girl with vivid red hair and large hazel eyes has her hand grasped in her mother's. That's Lily—she's too young to be coming to Hogwarts now, and she's utterly miserable about it, of course. Next to Uncle Harry is the middle Potter. He looks exactly like his father: a mess of black hair, round glasses and sparkling green eyes. Albus, or Al, as we call him, is probably my closest cousin. Skipping in front of the other four, a backpack slung lazily around one shoulder, his black hair flopping onto his forehead, is James Potter, who's too mischievous for his own good.

We all greet each other and then we trickle off into our little groups, or in James' case, wander off towards some of his friends. Our parents chat amiably in a corner, while Hugo and Lily have an animated discussion about which house they'd get Sorted into when they go to Hogwarts. Not for the first time this morning, my stomach squirmed. Our family naturally expected us to get Sorted into Gryffindor, their old house. But what if we broke the tradition? Or, as Albus said and I thought, what if we get Sorted into Slytherin?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not prejudiced against Slytherin. Heck, it would be a pretty cool House to get into, from what I've read. It's more about what my family will say.

Albus glances at me nervously, meeting my eyes for the first time. "Rose, are you afraid you'll get into Slytherin? James says I will."

"I guess so," I say cautiously. "But you shouldn't listen to James. He's not the Sorting Hat."

Albus smiled weakly, though it looked more like a grimace. "Well, yeah." He fidgets with a trick wand and, with a sharp crackle, it sprouts whiskers and mews. He drops it in shock. "I _told _James to stop swopping my wand for his stupid trick ones!"

I giggle.

"Well, anyway," he says, rolling his eyes, "What House _do _you think you'll be in?"

I tilt my head to the side, thinking. I'm not boasting or anything, but I'm quite smart, so I suppose the natural fit would be Ravenclaw. Then again, Gryffindor runs in my blood, I suppose. Something tells me it's not going to be Slytherin or Hufflepuff. "Gryffindor, like you," I say firmly, trying to get his hopes up. His eyes brighten ever so slightly.

Suddenly, James' loud voice bursts in on our conversation. "Hey, guys, guess what I saw? Teddy and Victoire, snogging!" When nobody batted an eye (I mean, we'd suspected something for _ages_), he exclaims, "_Our _Teddy! Our cousin Victoire!"

"Did you butt in on them?" Aunt Ginny says exasperatedly. "Honestly, you are so like Ron."

We all laugh. Just then, Uncle Harry's eyes narrow. "Look, the Malfoys are here."

We all look in the direction in which he's looking. I see a small family, two parents and a boy who looks about my age. The father and son both have a head of white-blond hair, while the mother has long, wavy brown hair. The father seems to be telling something to his son, from the way they're positioned.

Dad growls. "Those slimy gits!"

Mum lays a hand on his shoulder, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Ron, shut up."

I survey my parents curiously. "Why does Dad think the Malfoys are slimy gits?"

"He doesn't mean it," Mum says calmly. "It's just an… old disagreement."

"They look alright," I say, raising an eyebrow.

Dad turns to look at me. " You beat him in every class, Rosie. You've your mother's brains, you know."

"_Honestly,_" Mum sighs, shooting a deadly glare at Dad. "Don't turn them against each other before they even get to Hogwarts!"

Just then, the whistle blows. We all hurry to get onto the train, because everyone wants a good compartment. As I and Albus glance back before stepping onto the train itself, I see my cousin Lily sniffle into Aunt Ginny's arms and Hugo scoffing more Chocolate Frogs up.

We watch our families as the train slowly moves out of the platform. I wave and Albus yells out, "Goodbye!" I can't help but feeling a sudden burst of excitement. _I'm off to Hogwarts._


End file.
